The Play's the Thing
by Chriss Corkscrew
Summary: Riker and Barclay are acting in a play. Can they share the passionate kiss that the script demands? And will it change things forever? (mild slash warning)


Heading: The Play's the Thing.

Author: Chriss Corkscrew

Copyright: 2001-11-27

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Paramount and Viacom own the characters and settings of this story.  The story itself belongs to the author and no profit is being made from it.

Set:  This is set on the Enterprise D, after Nth Degree and before Genesis.

"I love you", Barclay stuttered, staring deeply into Will Riker's eyes.  "I think you're hot and I w-want you.  And you w-want me.  I c-can tell", he swallowed deeply.

"You're wrong", Riker stared into the lieutenants eyes, trying to stop the snigger that even now was forcing his lips into an involuntary smirk, and "You have to be wrong.  Apart from anything else I don't find you hot".

"Not even my ars−", here Barclay had to stop.  Taking him over slowly, he bent over at the waist and then slumped to his knees, his body shaking with mirth as the laughter overtook him.  "My ar−, ar−, arse!" with that he began to howl with laughter and, lying on his back on the stage, was soon joined by an equally hysterical Riker.

"No!  No!  No!" Beverly threw her script to the ground.  "I can't believe this.  Can't you even attempt professionalism; this play is on in five days, FIVE DAYS!"  She looked at the men, still wilting on the stage, and ground her teeth.  "After all you've been through as officers you can't manage a simple love scene, the rest of the play is perfect, can't you just do this one thing".

"Sorry, s-sorry", gulped Reg and hauled himself up.  "I'll try".

"Me too", Riker chuckled, "We'll finish the scene".

"Okay, now Reg, read from 'not even my arse'".  

"Okay", he cleared his throat and wondered why he had agreed to star in this play, not just any play, but one that the Doctor had written; if anything she was being more precious about her directing than usual and acting gay was not his forte.  "Not even my arse", he read in a monotone, not daring to meet Riker's mischievous gaze.

"Not even your arse", Riker growled, "You have made absolutely no impression on me, whatsoever".

"I don't believe you", Reg stumbled over the script, "What about the heat?  That fire between us?  A naked flame.  It'll light you up and burn you down; all ya gotta do  . . ." he leant forward awkwardly, as the script required him to do, "Is blow".  That was it.  Both men collapsed into each other, tears streaming down their faces as they screeched their amusement for half the deck to hear.

"I take it the kiss is out", Beverly deadpanned, the trace of a smile on her face.

*     *     *

"We've gotta get out of this", Barclay looked nervously at Riker as they sat in Ten-Forward; "I can't do it".

"You couldn't have said that before we spent three months working on the play?"

"You can't do it either".

"I can.  I'm an enlightened 24th century guy; a gay kiss is not a problem".

"Fine", Barclay slammed his hands down onto the table, "Do it right now.  You have my permission to give me one heck of a kiss, right now".

Disturbed by the noise, people at nearby tables turned to look at the two men.  "Reg", Riker hissed.

"What, you want me to brush my teeth first?" Barclay challenged.

"Okay, okay", Riker put his hands up in mock-surrender, "I give in.  I don't think I can kiss you.  I mean−", he leant forward as if imparting a particularly nasty secret; "Can't you just imagine the look on Deanna's face".

"I've been trying not to".  Barclay shook his head, "I know she won't even get back until after the play but just the thought of her knowing−".

"−And watching the holovid", Riker put in.

"And, oh God, the Captain".  Will and Reg looked at each other, panic in their eyes.

"We've got to get out of this", they said in unison.

*     *     *

Beverly was less than sympathetic.  "You want me to recast the parts−".

"−Or you could just rewrite the end of the play".

"Just because you don't think you can kiss each other".

"Right", Riker gave her one of his best smiles, "It needn't be a problem.  We are, after all, adults".

"Really?" Beverly returned his smile with one of her most unflinching, "In that case, on Friday, I don't care how you do it, I want to see you and Reg exchanging a steamy kiss on stage in front of all your peers.  I want it so hot they have to adjust the air conditioning to compensate.  Reg, the predator.  Will, the prey.  Sensual, sexual, kisses and klaxons.  She shot them a glare capable of committing vasectomies without medical backup, "Get down, get dirty and get out".

*     *     *

"And then there was Maria Calhoun", Reg slurred drunkenly.  They were back in Ten-Forward and worse for wear, having several whiskies inside of each of them.  "I took her out to dinner, then to a play.  Took her home, everything was great; asked me in for coffee and everything and then−".

"−Then?"

"Went to kiss her, tripped over her shiatsu, grabbed her for balance and ripped off her dress to reveal−".

"Reveal?"

"Big pants".

"Oh, the worst", Riker nodded sympathetically.

"Really big pants, holding her in or up or something", he shook his head drunkenly, "Then she has the audacity to call the police and have me spend a night in the cells.  After seeing those pants too!  I was in shock".

"I'd be in shock too", agreeing with Reg, Riker asked the killer question, "What colo−".

"Beige", Barclay answered, his eyes wide with the memory, "With a double-stitched reinforcing seam".

"The bitch", Riker took another swallow of his whiskey, "And they call us monsters".

"I never even got my kiss.  Well, to be quite frank I didn't really want it, after−".

"Big pants", Riker nodded.  "So this is typical for you then?  You buy the dinner, you listen to her moan about her last boyfriend, she drains you dry then−".

"Big pants".  Barclay slumped in his chair and rested his head in his hands.  "I can't do passion.  Seriously.  The best I can manage is drunken fumble and even then I can't do it if there are any, y'know, in the vicinity".

"Big pants".

"Story of my life, man".  Reg looked into his glass, "The glass is half-empty".  Taking a swig he looked into it again, "And now it is empty".  He sighed.

*     *     *

The following morning they met up in Riker's quarters to rehearse.  It hadn't gone well, their hearts not really in it, and had degenerated into silence before the crucial scene.

"So how many women have you, um, you know".  Barclay nodded meaningfully to the bedroom.  "Klaxons, kisses and all of that stuff".

"A few", Riker smiled, "One or two".

"Hundred?" Barclay knew his reputation and, like many envious and inadequate men often exaggerated it far above what even Riker would have estimated, to make himself feel even more inexperienced.

"Naw, well, maybe a hundred, possibly more".

"And I'm supposed to kiss you?"   Barclay got up and waved his hands, yelling, "Anyone else want to load some more pressure on me?  My ego's not completely flat yet".

Riker laughed, "You know that's just an invite for Q to strip you naked and dump you in the middle of the Bridge".

"Or publish some of my more embarrassing teenage moments on every PADD from here to the Delta Quadrant".

"Just as long as he doesn't publish mine".

"Your teenage years were no way more pathetic than mine".

"Oh yeah, picture this, Admiral Nechayev staying over at our house in Alaska.  We didn't have a guest bedroom so she slept in my room and I took the couch".

"Yeah", Barclay said, unconvinced.

"On the second day she comes in with a pile of magazines, 'Magazines', you understand", Barclay nodded, a grin on his face, "And she says, 'Nice collection, I particularly like the ones with all the pages stuck together', I mean, ouch!"

"I had engineering magazines under my bed".

"One disaster at a time, Reg, now that is pathetic".

"We weren't intimate", he defended himself, "And at least Admiral Nechayev doesn't think I'm a pervert".

"Hey!  It is normal you know".

"If it were normal why don't they print magazines with stain-resistant pages?"

"I bet you've got some embarrassing stories too".

"Yeah well, I had the sense to get a lock put on my door".

"That explains why I get all the ladies; Lock-picking not being one of the more traditional precursors to passion".

"Ha ha!"  Reg looked down at himself, "I just wish I knew how to− to− just go for it".

"In that case, Reginald Barclay, this is your lucky day.  The plays the thing so I'm taking you to get in touch with your sensuality and hopefully−", he grinned at the look on Reg's face, "Someone else's.  Let's go, lover man".

*     *     *

"See now Will", Reg gestured around the smoke filled room; "I just can't do that".  All around them in the holodeck women gyrated, sliding round poles and dancing seductively on podiums.

"Yeah but it turns you on, right?"  This was Will's special programme, his 'Deanna's away but I need a little eye candy right now' programme for dire 'horny and nowhere to turn' emergencies, and if anything was going to connect Reg with his sexy side, this was it.

"W-well", Reg crinkled up his face, "The girl with the snake kinda grosses me out".

"What are you talking about?  She's hot!"

"But Will−".

"Look at her Reg, she's hot".

"Will−".

"What is wrong with her then?"

"Will, I don't know what she's usually like but look at her right now.  And I mean 'Right Now".  Will rolled his eyes and searched for the 'snake-dancer' he had programmed. "−Oh".

"Exactly".  Reg waggled a finger at Will.  "I don't think it's healthy to put a snake there".

"I don't suppose the snake enjoys it much either".  Reg laughed and, as he looked at him, Will wondered why he'd never realised how nice Reg was to be around.  "Computer", he shook himself out of his reverie, "Delete character; Cheryl, delete snake and", he shot a look at Reg who definitely needed a more experienced tutor, "Initialise Fiona".  There was a flash and, all of a sudden, a woman stood before them, tall, and dark, skimpily dressed and, with an air of Deanna about her, pure, bloody Reg-bait.  Will grinned as Reg, wide-eyed and scared-looking, gave a gasp.  _"That man will never make a sex-machine", he thought, amused__, "Well, maybe if Geordi leaves him unsupervised long enough . . ."._

"What?" Reg looked at him with a curious smile, "What?  Are you thinking about that snake?"

"Reg", Will raised his glass of synthehol in a mock-salute, "It's time.  Be a man".  He shoved Reg off of his chair and towards the women.  Considering for a moment he yelled after him, "Think 'snake'".

Reg looked up at the holo-woman he was sprawled in front of.  "Hi", he whispered nervously.

"Are you in pain?", the woman cooed, "It's just the only men who come in here and act that nervous are generally wearing a dirty anorak with a suspicious bulge; to be quite frank I don't think you're quite like that, so what's your story, handsome?".

"I'm Reg", he squinted up at the woman and wished that she didn't look so much like Deanna in a leather corset and heels, "And I'm here to, well−", he screwed up his face, "Act sexy".

"So . . . sexy", the woman ran her hand through his hair, her scarlet nails grazing his scalp, "You want to be a predator?" she purred.

"Erp!" Reg backed away nervously.

"Oh god!" the woman looked past Reg to Will and rolled her eyes, "You are kidding aren't you, Thunderball?"

"Nothing's impossible", his eyes twinkled, "Probably".

*     *     *

"It was awful".  Reg groaned to Geordi.  "He just sat there whilst these holo-vixens tried to seduce me".

"Kinda sounds like fun to me".

"Fun!  When your commanding officer is sitting there ordering you to grind away; to dance from the groin; to get down and dirty?  I nearly died!".

"I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it".

"He kept shouting 'Virgin alert!  Pop your cherry, Reg!'  I mean−", he looked annoyed; "Do I really look like a virgin?"

"Well−?"  

Incensed, Reg didn't hear the questioning tone of Geordi's answer and went on, "Just because I don't throw myself at women−".

Sensing that Reg was about to embark on one of his tirades, the type where he forgets to breath and turns blue, Geordi interrupted.  "No Reg, the whole point is that you can throw yourself at a man.  On stage, in front of an audience, you can throw yourself at a man and look like you mean it".

Reg shook his head, "That's the whole point, Geordi.  I can't do that.  I get dates by being me, shy and reticent.  The whole confidence thing isn't something I do.  I don't think I can even act it".

"Then pull out of the play.  It's one thing to let Beverly down.  It's entirely a different thing to ruin her play in front of everyone.  Look Reg", Geordi went to get up and placed a hand on Reg's shoulder, "Sometimes you just have to know your limits and give up.  It's nothing to be ashamed of".

As Geordi left Ten-Forward Reg thought about what he'd said.  No shame in giving up?  But then Barclay's don't give up.  Never have done.  "Oh, Thunderball Riker, just watch this space baby!" he growled, getting up and, with new purpose in his strike, he headed for Holodeck Three.

*     *     *

Fiona was surprised when Reg returned to her with a request for a lesson in seduction.  The wild eyes and slicked back hair startled her.  The tight leather pants gave her pause. . .

*     *     *

"This is going to be dreadful".  Beverly clutched at her copy of the script.  "Awful, even".  She looked beseechingly at Will, "You're seriously telling me that you and Reg haven't been rehearsing the final scene".

"He didn't want to", Will defended himself.  "He said that he could make himself do it once, for the play, really enter into the moment, but that if he rehearsed he just wouldn't be able to keep it fresh".

"Fresh?  How reassuring", she slapped her forehead, "So when he fluffs his lines, avoids the kiss and collapses with laughter I'll at least have the comfort of knowing that it's still fresh?  Men!"

"Hey", Will laughed, "Calm down Beverly, it'll be over in a little while and you know Reg, he has a way of coming through when under pressure".

"Coming through?  Then where is he?"

"Getting ready to make a grand entrance, apparently", Will put his arm around her.  "Look, it's simple.  The scene has been set.   The play has gone perfectly; the audience is aware of the fact that Reg is the predatory gay guy and I'm the repressed man who won't admit his sexuality.  They know this.  And, when Reg comes out and says his lines and finally persuades me I love him, gets me to kiss him and all that, everyone will know that it's a happy ending and they'll all go out thinking this play is great".

"You really think?"

"Hey, would I lie to my physician?"

"It depends; tell me commander, how did you discover you were allergic to the main ingredient in edible underwear?"

"No comment.  Oh−", Riker heard the stage manager call places.  "Looks like I'm on".  Leaving Beverly in the wings he returned to the stage.

 There, beneath the glare of the lights, Will took on his character and embarked on the final scene.  He slumped into the chair behind the desk and put his head in his hands as the curtains opened.  "This can't happen", he sighed at the audience, "It's my life, my heart to give.  I can't do this, I won't.  I have needs.  A woman.  A family.  Not a man.  Not here or now.  I can resist.  I must resist".  Using his best sob-racked voice he acted his socks off, "I can choose how I feel and I don't feel for him", he dropped his voice to an whisper, suddenly convinced that Reg was not going to turn up for the final scene, "I don't".  

"But no", Reg's voice suddenly boomed from beside him.  Will heard the audience gasp and looked up.  There was Reg but it wasn't Reg.  He stood there, proud and strong, his dark eyes standing out in a confident, excited face.  And his hair!  Oh his hair.  No longer the combed over mouse brown that was his natural hair state, but a short cut, bristled platinum.  _"Mr Mot has been busy", Will fought to keep a straight face as members of the audience cried out in delight, __"And Barclay looks, well, gorgeous! . . . Ohmigod!  I can't believe I just thought that!"  _

With that he realised that Barclay was speaking again and tried to pay attention.  "I love you", Reg looked at him with wicked eyes and smiled impishly, enjoying Will's discomfort.  "I think you're hot", he sidled across the room; a predator to the core, the audience hooked to his every sway.  "And I want you", he winked at Will, to the delight of the spectators, "And you want me.  I can tell".

Will, in equal parts terrified, delighted and strangely aroused spoke his lines as if it were the first time; as if he meant them.  "Oh", he shook his head ruefully, unable to tear his eyes away from the man before him, "You're wrong.  You have to be wrong".  He couldn't stop himself from smiling as he teased the man before him, "Apart from anything else, I don't find you hot!".

Reg grinned back as he peeled off his shirt in a brief but seductive striptease.  A delighted shriek came up from the watching crowd as he ran his hands sensually down his chest, the heat of the lights creating a sheen of sweat that Will found deeply stirring.  Dancing across the stage in an understated but undeniably provocative routine, Reg curled his hands round a pole which was part of the set and pulled himself towards it.  Wrapping his body round the pipe he ground himself against it and slid up its length.  As Reg threw his head back in an expression of sexual ecstasy, Will realised, in a moment of pure terror, that he was developing an erection and thanked God he was still behind the desk.

Reg growled, radiant with the perfection of the moment and, unaware of Will's current discomfort, he carried on regardless "Not.  Even.  My.  Arse?"  He teased, putting a finger to his mouth and sucking on it hard.

Will, breathing heavy, stood up, stretching like a tiger and mischievously replying; as Reg knew he would, "Not.  Even.  Your.  Arse".  He pouted.  "You have made absolutely no impression on me what− so− ever", he strode up to Reg, still draped round his pole and pressed his body tight up against him, only the post dividing their bodies.

As Reg felt Will's erection brush his leg he gulped with realisation.  "I don't believe you", he breathed, frightened and transfixed.  Beverly's words suddenly took on real meaning and, as he looked into Will's eyes he knew he was speaking the truth.  "What about the heat?  That fire between us?"  He swung on the pole and then, without warning, shot out a hand and ripped open Will's shirt, the buttons skittering across the floor.  The audience gasped, completely on edge, as the two men stood there, facing each other with a confidence, testing each other like young bucks as they moved and shifted, a mere hands-length away from each other.  "A naked flame", he appraised Will's chest with a lecherous gaze.  "It'll light you up and burn you down".  He moved in for the kill, the two men's erections pressing against each other achingly, and as he moved his face towards Will's their dilated eyes searched each others depths lustfully.  "And", he could feel the other mans breath on his face now, "All ya gotta do . . . is blow".  

With that the two men, after one final halting moment of anticipation, pushed themselves away from the pole and locked together.  They kissed passionately, hungrily, as if that first orgasmic taste was unquenchable.  It went on and on, the two men stroking and caressing with passion, with tenderness, the friendship of the past week and the latent sexual passions of forever bubbling to the surface to fuel the kiss.  Overwhelmed with excitement, with spasmodic delight, Beverly squealed in the wings, and the audience, in the presence of such 'acting', of such an unimaginable union, cried out in amazement and gave a standing ovation.

When the pair finally parted there were five curtain calls.

Backstage, Reg and Will ducked away from the hordes of congratulators and smiled at each other sheepishly.  For a long moment they just stood in silence, shy and uncertain but each aware of a heated undercurrent, a longing that was going unfulfilled.

Will opened his mouth to say something, "Look, Reg−".  Then suddenly there was someone else.

"Will!  I can't believe I missed your performance!  Everybody is saying how amazing you were!  Oh", Deanna smiled at Reg, "You too, Reg!  And I love your hair!"

"Thanks", Reg backed off nervously but was stopped by Will.

"Reg!" the look he gave him was full of need, of something despairing, "I love−  I love, your hair too", he finished falteringly.  After a searching look, a silent goodbye for Reg he pulled his gaze away reluctantly, took Deanna's arm and slowly led her away.

Reg watched him go and realised that a choice had been made.  He took one last look around the stage, around the place where his life might have changed forever, and walked home, alone.

The next day he dyed his hair back to its original colour and went to work as usual.


End file.
